


Get off My Back

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Geralt and Dandelion discuss one Yennefer of Vengerburg.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 25
Kudos: 312





	Get off My Back

“Does she mind that you’re bonded to someone else?” Although Dandelion kept his face schooled, Geralt detected a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

“I don’t believe she does.”

The bard made a disappointed noise, leaning back against the tree he was sitting under.

“It would be hypocritical of you to scold me for bedding her, Dandelion,” Geralt scolded. “I rescued you from your latest lover not three days past.”

“Geralt, you can stick your cock in any hole you like and I don’t give a damn about it, but does it have to be her’s?” Again, there was a slight whine to Dandelion’s voice.

“It does,” said Geralt, poking at the fire with a stick.

“Well, damn.”

“Is my omega trying to tell me what to do?” It was a developing part of their relationship. They’d always teased and pushed one another’s buttons, but Dandelion’s second gender had always been off-limits. But since he’d marked him, the poet had brought it up himself a few times in jest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Alpha,” lied Dandelion with an insolent smirk. 

Finally, Geralt asked, “What do you have against Yennefer?”

“I don’t think she’s good for you,” Dandelion answered quickly. Too quickly. Clearly he’d been rehearsing his speech. “You’d do anything for her, and I don’t believe she would extend the same favor to you.”

“Then you don’t know her.”

“Don’t I?” asked the bard. “Didn’t she throw you out when she got bored of you and then still ask you for a favor not a month later?”

“That’s different,” he snapped.

“Is it?”

“It is,” Geralt growled. “And if you don’t stop trying my patience, bard, I’ll lash you with my belt.”

“You wouldn’t,” snarled Dandelion, his eyes flashing.

No, he most likely wouldn’t, not over a petty spat. “I’ll gag you then.”

Dandelion sniffed, a haughty expression on his face. “I’m only trying to help you, Geralt,” he said.

The worst part was, Geralt believed him. Dandelion - silly, sentimental fool that he was - was truly trying to help Geralt in his relationship. The only problem was that he had no idea of the foundation of the relationship.

“I know, Dandelion,” he said softly. 

* * *

They found a tavern to stay in for the next night, and Dandelion, as was his habit, quickly set to amusing the guests with songs and tales, mostly about Geralt.

For his part, Geralt was content to sit back, close his eyes, and listen.

Then someone requested a love ballad, and Dandelion happily crowed that he had just the perfect one. Something in his tone made Geralt’s eyes snap open.

The poet was clearly inebriated, his eyes unfocused, his gait unsteady as he prepared to sing, but he met Geralt’s eyes with a fierce grin, and Geralt’s cat eyes narrowed in response.

Drunk or not, Dandelion was up to something. “It’s a brand new song!” he boasted, throwing out his arms with delight. “Based - as all the best songs are - on personal experience.”

“Yours or someone else’s?” asked a member of the crowd.

“Both,” said Dandelion with a wicked smile.

Geralt met his eyes again, giving Dandelion a look that warned him not to do whatever he was planning, but his friend merely grinned at him, then began to sing, making eye contact with the Witcher as he did.

> _It's Charlotte the Harlot, the girl we adore,_
> 
> _The pride of the prairie, the cowpuncher's whore._
> 
> _She's dirty, she's vulgar, she spits in the street_
> 
> _Why whenever you see her, she's always in heat_
> 
> _She'll lay for a dollar, take less or take more_
> 
> _The pride of the prairie, the cowpuncher's whore._
> 
> _Charlotte, the harlot, the girl we adore,_
> 
> _The pride of the prairie, the cowpuncher's whore._
> 
> _One day in the canyon, no pants on her quim_
> 
> _A rattlesnake saw her and flung himself in_
> 
> _Charlotte the Harlot gave cowboys the frights_
> 
> _The only vagina that rattles and bites._

Geralt was going to kill him.

He pushed himself to his feet and crossed the tavern in two quick strides, grabbing the tankard out of Dandelion’s hands as the poet made to take a swig, and said, “I think you’ve had enough.”

“On the contrary,” hissed the poet, “I’ve only just started.”

“Go to bed, Dandelion,” he said softly.

The tavern occupants were all watching them, murmuring amongst themselves and wondering why the Witcher had suddenly stopped the show.

“No,” said the poet.

Geralt leaned closer, dropping his voice until he was certain only Dandelion could hear him. “You will,” he said softly, “or I’ll scruff you and drag you there myself.”

Dandelion’s entire face went red, with either anger or embarrassment. “You wouldn’t-” he began.

And he was right. Geralt wouldn’t scuff him. It was something that only worked on Omegas, grabbing them by the back of their neck where there was a bundle of nerves that would make them go entirely limp. Geralt wouldn’t do that to Dandelion, and particularly not in a crowded room.

But what he would do - and what he did - was grab him by his arm and drag him upstairs. “The bard’s drunk,” he said by way of explanation. “If he stays here any longer, he’ll start vomiting.”

He threw Dandelion into the room, slamming the door behind him. “Never,” he growled. “Sing that again.”

Dandelion slapped him. It wasn’t terribly hard - and even though Dandelion wasn’t a fighter -he doubted he’d put much effort behind the blow. Geralt grabbed his wrist, squeezing it enough to make Dandelion wince. Then he released him. “Don’t threaten to- to do **that** to me!” he snarled.

“I wouldn’t-”

“I don’t care!” Dandelion hissed, shoving him. “Do you know what it feels like, Geralt? Can you imagine it, for one moment, with your blessed alpha body, what it feels like to completely lose control of your muscles?”

He’d clearly terrified him, and, despite his anger, couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Dandelion-”

The poet turned his back on Geralt. “Do it,” he said.

“Dandelion-”

“I mean it, Geralt,” said Dandelion. “Scruff me.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“You’re trying to change the subject!” snapped Geralt, giving Dandelion another shove, knocking him onto the bed. The bard scrambled to roll over, his eyes flashing.

“Well?” he asked haughtily. “Are you going to whip me, Geralt?”

“I ought to,” snarled the Witcher. “Turn your arse red and see how much trouble you keep causing me.” It was.... extremely tempting. If they weren't in a crowded inn where people would hear them, he might follow through on the threat, but he wasn't going to turn this into any more of a show than it already was. 

The poet sneered.

“Or perhaps you’d like to explain what the hell just happened?”

“I think you know,” challenged Dandelion. “No one would have known that the song was about Yennefer if you’d not opened your mouth. Now, they all wonder why you drug me off.”

He had a point, but Geralt wasn’t willing to admit that. Instead, he said, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“Jealousy?” demanded Dandelion. “You think I’m jealous?” He actually started to laugh, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

“Then what is it, damn it?!”

“You’re my friend!” snapped the poet. “And I hate to see anyone trouble you, is that so hard for you to believe?”

It wasn’t if he was honest. “You’re not handling it well if that’s the case.”

“I tried subtlety, it didn’t work.”

“You don’t know how to be subtle.” In spite of himself, Geralt felt a slight grin on his face.

Dandelion was chuckling, stretched out on his back on the bed. “Are you angry with me?” he asked.

“I should be,” said the Witcher, still debating putting a gag in the poet's mouth the next time they were in public. 

Dandelion grinned. “Look, Geralt, I’m sorry. There, I said it. Does that help?”

Geralt sat on the edge of the bed with a huff. “Not at the moment. Just… leave Yen out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“The bond. Your songs. Our discussions. Take your pick.”

“So I’m to pretend she doesn’t exist?”

“I never said that.” He'd thought about it, though.

“You suggested it.”

Geralt gave him a stern look. “Go to bed, poet. I’m not angry, just go to bed. You’re going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Dandelion.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ Dandelion's song is a real song.](https://www.ibiblio.org/bawdy/ballads/charlotte.html)


End file.
